


negative space is silly

by sugarybowl



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Victorian, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-15 02:59:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15403464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugarybowl/pseuds/sugarybowl
Summary: For my Inception Bingo square "Answering an add".





	negative space is silly

Ariadne was not a stupid girl, she knew perfectly well that a valet was a gentleman’s gentleman and that propriety and the demands of such a job were inequivalent with the employment of a woman. She was not an idiot. She was, however, in much danger of starving. Nothing would be lost she, told herself, in presenting for the position and being rejected – or declining an offer if the duties were beyond what she would be willing to do.

Still, it was very possible that she would be turned away at the door – gentlemen had valets for many reasons, not least of all so they would not have to mind their tongues and actions around a lady.

This fact, it appeared, was not something that particularly troubled _this_ gentleman. He wears an expression as bright as the green ascot around his neck, smiling with a sort of manic glee down at Ariadne.

“Bloody hell,” he gasps, “I’ll be the talk of the town – won’t I? Tell me would you be terribly unwilling to wear a suit? Bespoke, of course?”

Ari blinks, taken aback at not being immediately scoffed away.

“Not at all, sir.”

“This will be the true means to turning heads when we go to the gaming tables,” he says, stepping aside for her to enter the foyer, “– you aren’t opposed to the gaming tables, are you miss…”

“Ariadne, sir. Ari if you please,” she says, surreptitiously looking over the messy town home. All around her she can see the materials for art, which seems strange for a gentleman of leisure to present so prominently in his home.

“Ari – how perfectly sexless, I adore this,” he says, nearly clapping with glee, “the job is particularly demanding, I must warn you. It isn’t because of me, I am veritable delight -  but because I have only justified the expense of a valet in agreement of serving us both.”

That makes Ari frown, eyeing the door and wondering if her easy acceptance should be a cause for concern.

 “Both, sir?”

“Yes, just a moment. Arthur! Arthur?”

The shape of another man appears at the top of the staircase. He is dressed much more conservatively than the man who has received Ariadne, who has yet to introduce himself to her.

The man takes the steps quickly, with practiced precision.

“Must you holler like a school boy down a prairie, Mr. Eames?”

“Dear Arthur, does it tumble in your beautiful mind the memory of an agreement between us to share a valet so that I may have one?”

“It does indeed sound like one of the many compromises into which I have entered for the sake of a moment of peace.”

“Wonderful, this is Ari. She will be our scandalously female but preferably androgynous valet. Do I have your consent?”

“That depends, Eames, if the young lady is in agreement to enter into your ridiculous employ?”

Ari clears her throat and takes a small step forward, “Yes, sir. I only mentioned to –“

“Mr. Eames does just fine, luv,” the brighter man says.

“To Mr. Eames, sir – that certain duties…“

“Miss,” Arthur sighs, “a valet is a mere caprice that Mr. Eames – like any vagrant thought that wanders into his mind – is unable to contain himself from. I’m certain we can find you some duties, but we are grown men perfectly capable of finding our way into a pair of trousers.”

Mr. Eames chuckles at that, “Don’t I say-“

“You do not say,” Arthur interrupts, leveling a deadly look toward the other man.

“Very well,” Mr. Eames says with a clap of his hands, “off to the tailors, we must make Ari a most impressive trousseau of bespoke menswear.”

Ari bites her lip and tilts her head just so, “Is it menswear if a woman is wearing it, sir?”

“I dare say she’s got you matched for wit there,” Arthur says with a smirk.

“We will get along splendidly, Ari,” Mr. Eames declares, “come along, dears.”


End file.
